


wings of wax

by bipolaryangxiaolong (rosesandcinnamon)



Series: wings of wax [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, bipolar character, good girlfriends, midnight talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandcinnamon/pseuds/bipolaryangxiaolong
Summary: [Yang: Would ur parents kill me if I came and got u][Blake: Yes.][Yang: OK cool be outside in five pls]





	wings of wax

**Author's Note:**

> My first bumbleby fic!!! I love them.  
> My personal headcanon for Yang is that she's bipolar, type two- characterized by less severe manic episodes called hypomania. This fic has been in my drafts for months, but it wasn't until I had another idea for the same AU that it started coming together.

The room is lit by her bedside lamp, and she is comfortable in her blankets, lying on her side to read. _One more chapter_ , she tells herself, loving the crisp flip of the page. Her concentration wavers when her phone buzzes, once, twice, three times. She reaches for it on her nightstand, smiling faintly at her lockscreen of herself and Yang, the curve of her lips soft and demure next to Yang’s radiant expression, but happy all the same. The smile fades as she pulls the new messages up.

[Yang: Hey]

[Yang: Are you awake]

[Yang: ?]

It’s 3:34am, and Blake sighs, deep from her chest. She’s not surprised that Yang’s texting her- her mood has been shifting lately.

[Blake: I am.]

The reply comes quicker than she expected.

[Yang: Would ur parents kill me if I came and got u]

[Blake: Yes.]

[Yang: OK cool be outside in five pls]

Blake gently tucks a bookmark inside the pages, sitting up and setting the book on her nightstand. She stares at the wall for a moment, pondering. Risk getting caught and landing them both in trouble, or let Yang do whatever it is she’s doing by herself? That’s another risk entirely.

She sighs once more, sliding out of her nice warm comfy bed. She swaps shorts for leggings, but keeps the obnoxiously yellow hoodie on. She knows Yang likes it when she wears her clothes. Pulling shoes on, she turns the light in her room off, eyes adjusting to the streetlamp light sneaking in through her curtains.

Blake tiptoes out of her room, taking slow, cautious steps. Her father’s snores pause, and so does she. When the rumbling sound resumes, she smiles, reassured. If her father is asleep, so is her mother. Shutting the door behind her, she clicks her bedside lamp back on. Its warm glow illuminates her room, but more importantly, her window. Blake opens it carefully, sliding it back. The screen is already out- she’s used to this. Pushing herself onto the sill, twisting around, and landing lightly on the roof, she smiles. It may be more enjoyable to read in bed, but this is still pretty fun sometimes.

The hum of a car is audible around the corner, and Blake’s phone buzzes as well. She takes her time finding her way down the tree, well aware of the risk of falling, but breaks into a jog when she hits the sidewalk. She always marvels at how the neighborhood seems so lifeless after dark. Porch lights are illuminating yet a touch otherworldly with their yellow glow, and streetlamps are strange beacons of artificial brightness.

She rounds the corner and heads toward the car, Yang flashing her a peace sign when she comes into view. Blake can’t help but smile. She reaches in through the open window to unlock the passenger door- Yang always forgets.

“Hi, kitten,” Yang says, smile brilliant as she leans over to kiss her. Blake touches her face, fingertips brushing over her cheek. When they part, Yang can’t help but smirk, tugging on the yellow fabric of Blake’s sleeve. “I wondered where this had gone.”

She shrugs, sly look on her face as she slips her arm down to hold Yang’s hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yang rolls her eyes in answer, pulling her hand away for a moment to shift gears. Blake takes it back immediately, intertwining her cold fingers with Yang’s. “Are we going to the usual spot?”

“Yeah. Want the aux cord?” Yang pulls out onto the major road, out of Blake’s neighborhood, and the unique chill of a summer night fills the car as she accelerates.

“Always.” Blake digs her phone out of the hoodie pocket with her free hand, then reaches for the cord. After she spends a few moments trying and failing to plug it in with one hand, Yang wiggles her fingers free with a laugh. Blake sighs dramatically, but takes the moment to connect her phone and the cord. Once Blake has her hand again, she kisses her palm. Yang glances over, and golden eyes already looking her way reflect the glow of a passing streetlamp.

“I love you,” she whispers. Blake can’t help the smile that comes to her face- it may be normal to hear the phrase, but it’s still special to her. She looks back down to her phone, selecting a playlist that has only a firework emoji as its title.

“I love you too,” she replies, just before the music fills the night. It’s a good song, one she associates with nights just like these, so she leans forward to turn it up. The bass fills her chest and the wind ruffles her hair and Yang’s hand is warm in her own and her heart is quietly content. They drive, and Blake lets herself relax into the fabric of the seat. Yang avoids speeding- it’s much past curfew, and their parents would kill them if a police officer brought them home. They make it out, past the neighborhoods and subdivisions, in between towns, where the sky is clear and as bright as it can be. Blake lets go of Yang’s hand as she turns off the main road, headed to a little crest of a hill they’ve been to many times. The path is bumpy, and Yang snickers at the way Blake bounces in her seat. Once at their spot, Yang switches her car off, the engine shuddering to a halt. The night is silent save for their very human noises of seatbelts clicking and doors slamming.

Blake is grateful for the lack of clouds as they settle into the back of Yang’s car, the seats half-up so they can rest against them. She’s also grateful for her personal space heater of a girlfriend as well as their blankets. The two sit quietly together for a long while, enjoying the sky and each other’s presence. Finally, Blake snuggles closer to her, head placed on her chest in such a way to hear her heart beating. It’s too fast. She knows the way Yang’s heart beats when she’s excited or nervous, and this isn’t it.

“What’s wrong, Yang?” she asks, and her voice is a stark contrast to the stillness. It takes her a moment to respond.

“Nothing, kitten,” Yang whispers, fingers tapping a beat onto her own hip. “Just needed company.”

Blake also knows it when Yang lies. It’s a waver in her voice, a falseness in her tone. She hates asking the question, but it has to be said. “Are you taking your meds?”

Her silence is answer enough.

“ _Yang_.” She sits up, yanking her along. “Are you kidding me?” Yang refuses to look at her, lilac eyes set firmly on the horizon, and Blake fumes. “How many days has it been?”

“Two or three,” she says, voice flat, something in it that Blake can’t identify. She folds her lips together, nails digging into Yang’s hand.

“Your dad wouldn’t let you run out of pills or refills. I text you every day to remind you. Why aren’t you taking them?” It’s like Yang is either ignoring her or not making an effort to respond, and Blake is thoroughly displeased. “What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Maybe I don’t want to take them.” She uses the same flat tone, which is, Blake realizes, thinly veiled anger. Yang tugs her hand out of Blake’s, tucking it underneath her thigh and leaning, however unconsciously, away from her.

“Why would you not want to?” Blake knows arguing with her girlfriend over her mental health isn’t a great idea. But this is the damn hill she’ll die on, and Yang knows that too.

“Because.”

“Yang!” Blake is frustrated, tired, and she’s not here to placate her.

“You don’t _get it_ ,” Yang hisses, turning her head to look at her, golden hair flying over her shoulder. Blake recoils at the sheer resentment in her voice. “Dad doesn’t get it, Ruby and Weiss don’t get it, you don’t get it. The only one who gets me at all is Qrow and he’s a lonely old alcoholic.” As the list goes on, her voice rises. “Maybe Raven gets it! I wouldn’t know!” In the quiet night, she’s practically shouting. She drops the volume back down to a cold murmur, and Blake idly wonders which is worse. “I hate taking meds. I hate controlling who I am. I hate worrying every time I feel too much, one way or the other.”

“Yang….” Blake says her name softly this time, concern and sadness clear.

“Look, it would just be easier to let it all happen instead of fighting it every day.” She’s clearly thought about this a lot- her usual resilience beaten down.

“Would it really be easier?”

Yang shrugs. “Sounds like it would be.”

Blake moves to be in her line of vision, reaching to place a hand on her thigh. “I know I wasn’t around for it, but you’ve told me a lot. Do you remember winter of junior year?”

Yang smiles, not out of fondness. “Yup. I was a hot mess.”

“Sophomore spring?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Blake’s question is harsh compared to her gentle tone. “Do you _like_ being out of control, Yang?”

She looks away. “It’s kind of fun,” she admits, choked voice hurting Blake’s heart. There’s more to be said, she knows, so she waits. “Every day is a damn adventure. And like, people expect me to be impulsive and fun and, I don’t know. Me, I guess.” She pauses, and Blake knows she’s crying. “Is my disorder really my personality?” She sniffles, angrily brushing away her tears. “This is stupid.”

“Oh, hon…” It’s genuinely unusual for Blake to use pet names, so Yang swallows down a sob at the tenderness she uses as she shifts closer. “Come here.” She puts an arm around her shoulders, tugging. Yang lets herself be pulled to her chest, and gladly hides her face in the thick fabric of her-now-Blake’s hoodie. “Is that all?” she asks in a murmur, running her fingers through golden hair.

After a long moment, Yang tells her “I don’t want to be me anymore,” voice muffled, yet the pain is evident.

Blake’s reply is unexpected. “I love you too much for you to be anyone else,” and the hiccup of a laugh that bursts from Yang’s chest surprises them both. “I’m serious,” Blake says, pressing a kiss to her head. “I know being you is hard. It’s just… you know your mood would improve if you took your meds, right?” She feels her nod, and sighs. “I worry about you.”

“Don’t,” she says in a soft whine, and Blake holds her tighter.

“Do _not_ feel guilty. I’m your girlfriend, worrying is my job.” She whines again, and Blake smooths out a snarl from her curls. “Can I tell you something?” Yang mumbles a vague affirmative, and she continues. “You’re acting like an Icarus and I don’t want you to fall,” she whispers. Yang buries her face deeper into the hoodie, and Blake feels her move with a sob. She rubs her back, feeling a little bad for making her cry, and wishing things would be easier.

Yang cries; Blake lets her. She holds her for a long, long time. Once her tears seem to quiet, she says “It’s going to be okay." Yang finally sits up. It kills Blake to see her red-faced, eyes puffy, lips downturned and bitten. They look at each other until Blake shifts closer to leave little kisses on her cheeks and nose and lips. Yang accepts them, closing her eyes. She waits for the question she knows is coming. “Will you take your meds?” Blake asks, leaning forward to put her head on her shoulder.

“I don’t want to,” Yang whispers, voice thick with tears.

“Will you do it for me?”

She hears a soft “Yeah, I will,” and squeezes Yang’s waist, nuzzling into her collarbone.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” At that, the sad tightness of her stomach eases.

She lays a gentle kiss on Yang’s neck, receiving a soft hum in reply. “I love you so much,” she breathes, content when she hears it in return.


End file.
